


Next Move

by Lyl



Category: Burn Notice, Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spy, Community: crossovers100, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-21
Updated: 2010-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-10 17:12:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyl/pseuds/Lyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam gets let in on the plan. Somewhat. (Sort-of sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/102124">Black Market Favors</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Move

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Black Market Favors](https://archiveofourown.org/works/102124) by [Lyl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyl/pseuds/Lyl). 



It was raining. Just his luck, too. Stranded in the middle of the Miami suburbs, and it decided to rain. A crappy end to a crappy day.

Sam had been walking for ten minutes, and still there was no end in sight. He'd been beaten up, threatened, tied to a chair, and spent most of the day thinking the was going to die. A timely rescue by Michael had been the only upside to the entire fiasco, but then things went south again when Michael had to leave to meet whoever it was that burned him.

On his own. With no backup.

Really, the rain was the cap on a day from fucking hell.

And they'd ruined his favourite shirt, the bastards.

So here he was, slowly making his way back towards some kind of real civilization, and wishing he'd had the presence of mind to grab Mike's cell phone off him before he drove away. In _his_ Caddy. Not that he begrudged Mike its use, but he was coming up short on cover stories to tell his lady friend how he'd 'mislaid' the brand new Cadillac.

A shiny black Jaguar pulled up beside him, and the passenger door popped open.

“Get in,” said a voice. Sam stared at the open door for a minute, wondering if anyone thought he was _that_ stupid, and kept on walking. He probably looked worse than he felt, but that was no reason to think he was an idiot. Strange, shiny black cars with tinted windows didn't just stop and offer a wounded – and mildly bloody – old guy a ride. Especially shiny black Jags. Not unless they had a reason, and Sam was too tired of this spook shit to deal with this right now. Mike was off doing God-knows what with the people who had ruined his life and deep-sixed his career.

“Always the hard way,” groused the driver of the car. “I said, get in, Mr Axe.” This time, the order came complete with a pointed gun as incentive.

“Alright, alright,” Sam conceded, sliding into the passenger seat and closing the door. “Don't get your panties in a knot.”

The car took off before he was comfortably seated. Turning towards the driver, he was glad to see the gun had safely disappeared.

“Standish?!”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance again, Mr Axe,” said the other man. Sam wondered what the hell was going on, because there was no way this was a coincidence.

“What the hell is going on?” Sam asked, not even bothering to pay attention to where he was being taken. “What are you doing in Miami? You hate this weather.” It had been over ten years since he'd seen the other man, but _that_ was something you didn't forget. Not when you'd been subjected to a rant of such vitriol and eloquence on the subject while hiking through Peruvian rainforests surrounded by armed guerilla fighters.

“An acquaintance of mine required some aid,” said Standish, the southern accent still rolling off his tongue despite never having lived in the South.

Sam went quiet for a moment, his mind flashing through facts and ideas. He might be old, but he wasn't slow. Or stupid.

“Mike.”

“Indeed,” said Standish, flashing that damn gold tooth of his as he smiled. “I am pleased to see that news of your decline has been greatly exaggerated.”

“Don't give me that shit, Standish. Why are you here?”

“Very well. Mr Westen called in a favour he was owed. I am here to fulfill my part.”

“Mike had a marker? On you?” Sam asked incredulously, because if there was one spook in the world he figured would be able to climb his way out of any mess on his own, it was Ezra Standish. The man's devious nature was legendary.

“It does happen,” said Standish, smiling ruefully as he drove. “He sent a signal several hours ago, and we've been surveilling him ever since.”

“Wait, 'we'?” asked Sam, turning in his seat to face Standish.

“You call for one, and you get us all, Mr Axe,” said Standish, smile still on his face.

“Huh,” was all Sam could find to say. Mike had certainly pulled out the big guns for this one, if all seven of them were involved. Though really, Sam wouldn't want anyone else watching Mike's back, except maybe himself. Larabee's group was good, and they didn't stop until their objective was met.

“Indeed.”

“So what's the plan?” Sam asked, turning back towards the road. He was glad Standish had chosen a decent car for this, because the seats were _very_ nice and his aching body was _very_ appreciative.

“We are tracking the car through the navigational system. He appears to be driving northwest at a decent speed.”

Sam clicked his fingers as he remembered, “The navigational system was giving him directions. Said something about his destination being 110 miles away.”

“Interesting,” was all Standish would say as he pulled out his cell phone.

“JD. Instructions were being relayed through the on-board navigation system. Can you back track it?”

Sam listened carefully, and wondered if the rumours of Larabee recruiting the CIA's top computer expert were true.

“So, how is the CIA treating you these days?” Sam asked pseudo-casually as Standish ended the call. He may be out of the game, but he still had his contacts.

Standish gave him one of those shit-eating grins he was famous for, and said “Cursing our very existence.”

Sam just rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the road.

At least it was only the CIA.

END


End file.
